Tortured Soul of an Artist
by stay.traught.i'm.deactivated
Summary: [abandoned] Draco Malfoy is many things. Last minute Light side ally. Sexy. TOTALLY AWESOME. He's also a writer. His story is of a surprising yet passionate love between two very different and independent people. Draco briefly wonders when his one muse will find out that she's HIS true love...
1. Chapter 1

Ron Tastes like Pumpkin

Hermione looked over at her friends as she sat down in the Burrow's parlour after a cool, refreshing shower, her hair still damp. Harry had his arm slung around Ginny's shoulders and her head resting on his shoulder as they watched Ron with a hint of amusement. Ron was fiddling with a ukulele.

He had gotten it after he Apparated to the island of Hawaii for a quick party to relieve all the stress from the war. He was only gone for three days, but everyone was worried out of their minds looking for the missing red head. It was a great relief when he Apparated back in beige trousers, a red and white Hawaiian print shirt, sandals, and a fresh flower lei, laden with gifts for all his worried friends. Ron was actually quite good at playing the little instrument now.

"Aren't you guys so glad that the war is over?" Hermione sighed contentedly for the nth time since the war ended. They all turned to their bushy haired friend and smiled.

"Yea," Harry sighed in a like tone.

The war was probably hardest on him, being the Chosen One and all. All the deaths were hard on everyone, but earlier this year, after the war had been won, as they helped rebuild Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, and everything that was destroyed during the way, it also helped rebuild their old lives, confidence, and general attitudes.

"It feels great to finally be free from all this 'save the world or we'll all die' stuff, and finally have time to spend with my dear girlfriend," he kissed Ginny on the forehead, "and with my awesome bestest friends." He flashed them all a wide, infectious grin, causing a similar smile to creep up onto the faces of Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, too.

Ron strummed a quick tune that sounded vaguely like the chorus from a Muggle song Hermione knew, _With a Little Help from my Friends _by the Beatles. She smiled at his choice of song.

"Do you know the name of that song, Ron?" she asked. He nodded energetically.

"Yea, it's _With a Little Help from my Friends by_ this Muggle band called the Beatles. It's funny how they're named after a bug. I like their music, though," he replied enthusiastically, strumming another chorus from another song by said band. "That one was _"Here Comes the Sun"._ I actually heard their songs for the first time on a ray-dee-yo when I was in Hawaii."

"Yea, they're one of my favourite bands, too, Ron," Hermione agreed. Ron flashed Hermione a grin that clearly said, 'Awesome!' and continued playing from the end of _Here Comes the Sun_'s chorus.

Suddenly, a great, brown owl swooped down in front of Ron, startling and causing him to jump up two inches.

"That's a Hogwarts owl!" Ginny squealed, breaking from Harry's grip and snatching the letters from the owl's beak, passing them out to the correct person. "MUM!" she hollered at the top of her lungs. "The Hogwarts letters are here!" At that, everyone in the house rushed into the living rooms, curious about this year's letters. George, Arthur, and Molly Weasley all entered the room within seconds. "And apparently all four of us are welcome to return."

The quartet stared at their letters. "You open your letter first, Harry," Ron urged, putting his ukulele on the couch. And the Boy Who Lived did.

"Quidditch captain again!" he exclaimed, taking out his shiny new badge. Ginny gave a peck on the cheek with a mutter of, "Of course, dear. You're a great Seeker." Ron fake gagged.

"I'm opening mine up next!" Ginny called, ripping open the ivory envelope. A badge fell out and plopped into her waiting palm. "Yes, prefect," she cheered, doing a miniature dance right there.

"Your turn, Ron," Hermione spoke, wordlessly and politely offering to go last.

Ron opened his envelope and peered inside. "Nothing," he said, looking crestfallen and sighing audibly. Everyone's faces fell as they offered their silent apologies to the youngest red headed boy. Then Ron's face instantaneously brightened up. "Just kidding!" he yelled, pulling out a shiny gold and red badge. "I'm a prefect!" he said gleefully, jumping up and down before laughing at everyone's surprised faces. Everyone rolled their eyes before joining into his raucous laughter.

After everyone had calmed down, Hermione announced that she was going to open her letter. She wasted no time in doing so.

"Head Girl!" she squealed gleefully, doing as Ginny did and dancing nonsensically in the middle of the parlour. There were multiple congratulations between the whole group, and happiness and cheer all around.

"We should get going to Diagon Alley, get our supplies, and then get some ice cream at George's new shop to celebrate," Molly suggested, earning many cheers and everyone's agreement.

"Yea, you guys have yet to try my new specials and flavours," George stated, mock pouting. Everyone laughed at his antics and went to go prepare for a jaunt to Diagon Alley.

It was two hours later, and they were all bustling through the Floo to Diagon Alley. As soon as they entered through the door to George's newest establishment, one of his workers came up and asked politely how she could help them. Weasley's Wizard Ice Cream Parlour was the new Fortreuse's Ice Cream, and George had bought the building from the late Florean Fortreuse's still alive son.

"We will have seven of my newest special, small scoops, Amaretta," he said, and the girl rushed to fill her boss's order.

"What is your newest special, George?" Ginny asked curiously as all seven of them sat down at the biggest table in the shop.

"You'll just have to wait and find out, sis," he said with a wink. After that statement, the waitress, Amaretta, came back laden with seven bowls of ice cream.

"Seven Golden Trio Specials," she said, laying one bowl in front of each person, with a clean silver spoon.

As soon as she left, Hermione gave a small chuckle. "Golden Trio Specials?" she asked, eyebrows raised in questioning bemusement.

George smirked. "A tribute to our war heroes, of course!" he exclaimed dramatically. "Dark Chocolate Curls for our dear intelligently wonderful Miss Hermione Granger," Hermione blushed at the compliment, "Weasel Red Pumpkin for ickle Ronnikins," Ron scowled at the comparison of him to a weasel and a pumpkin, "and for Our Chosen One, Mister Harry Potter, we have May Green Mint," George finished with a flourish.

"How about this one last flavour on top?" Ginny asked.

"I was getting there," George snapped childishly. "It's Golden Snitch Vanilla," he explained. "The white chocolate swirly things sticking out of the side are wings, see?"

Everyone nodded, even if just to get George to be quiet.

"Well, dig in!" George ushered. With that, he dug into his own ice cream. Ron wasted no time, either.

"It was really nice of you to name an ice cream after us, George," Harry said as he ate. "And it tastes great, too."

"Of course it is, Harry! People expect quality from the newest ice cream parlour in Diagon Alley, and quality they shall get!"

Ginny ate a spoon of the red orange ice cream. "Mm, Ron tastes like pumpkin pie," she said, smirking at said brother. Ron glared at her comparison as well.

"Stop comparing me to fruits!" the short tempered Weasley demanded.

"Well, Georgie, I think it tastes great," Molly said, pinching her sons cheeks, as she was sitting right beside him. Also, they wanted to change the subject before Ron went into his "Volcano Rage Mode", as everyone around him had coined it.

"Mom," George groaned, swatting her hand away. "Not in front of my workers!"

"Aw, our little Georgie is growing up so fast, Arthur," Molly said a little tearily, turning to her husband.

"Oh come now, Molly, don't cry," Arthur consoled her, turning away from his and Harry's discussion about the function of a vacuum, or as Arthur Weasley liked to call it, a vah-koom.

It was fifteen more minutes of discussion, jokes, and news about George's ice cream shop before they all finished and decided to go shopping for school supplies.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," George started, "but I kind of miss Hogwarts. All the poor unsuspecting first years ready to me pranked. I don't miss it enough to return to learning though," he finished, shrugging noncommittally.

"Of course," Hermione stated. "It is _you _after all."

With a smirk, George strutted up to the front of the group with his parents. "Come on, Mum, Dad. You guys are walking too slowly. Onto Diagon Alley to let the last year Hogwarts students loose to wreak havoc upon the unsuspecting Diagon Alley and buy their supplies!" he cheered, dragging the two along by the arms, forcing Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny to follow with amused smiles on their faces from George's antics.

* * *

><p>(To my Are You Trippin? readers) Here's this new fic I said I'd publish... XD<p>

(To EVERYONE!) Hope you like! :D


	2. Chapter 2

My Muse Made Me Do It!

_He opened his eyes. Everything was blurry, and he blinked a few times before it all cleared up. He could feel dried blood coating his face and he was sore all over. He stood up with some difficulty. What had happened? Why had he blacked out? Then it all came back to the boy._

_He was pleading the Death Eater to spare him, insisting that he was on their side. Then someone had stunned the Death Eater. An invisible hand had punched him hard on the face. That explained the blood. _

_It was Weasley. He was the one who punched him, from under Potter's Invisibility Cloak, no doubt. He knew it was him because as he gave them a silent, bemused, and bloody smirk in thanks, he heard Weasley's voice yelling at him. Something along the lines of, "And that's the second time we've saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!"_

_Definitely Weasley._

_He passed out promptly after that. He woke up to see all of the Death Eaters walking back into Hogwarts. Those filthy, traitorous bastards. _

_Dolohov knew he was on their side. Yet he had Crucio-ed him on the battlefield twice. Nott had punched him in the gut before Crucio-ing him. Right before he had went into the Room of Requirement to follow Potter, Mulciber had gotten into a duel with him. He had beaten the older Death Eater, though. And not long after, Rookwood had insisted that he was no longer on the right side and almost killed him for it. _

_But the Golden Trio had saved him._

_The Death Eaters were led by their snake faced leader, and the half giant, Hagrid. He was carrying a dead body, carrying... Harry Potter? _

_No._

_No, no, no. It can't be. He listened to the Dark Lord, no, the Dark Bastard's speech about how the great Chosen One was dead. It couldn't be._

_No matter how much he didn't like him, that boy had saved his life twice tonight, and Draco Malfoy could not believe it. He officially loathed the Death Eaters more than one can even think possible. First, they assigned him a near impossible mission just for something that his father, not him, had done. Then, they betrayed him too many times to count on the final battlefield. And this, this was the last straw. When someone was _finally_ kind to him out of the goodness of their hearts, and not for his money or power, they had killed him. Mind the sarcasm, but isn't that just _nice_?_

_He was thinking when all of hell broke loose. Giants, centaurs, and... House elves? That's new. They were all fighting, spells were flying. Draco didn't have a wand. Great. The first thing he thought of was to steal a wand from an unaware Death Eater. He dashed through the crowd and... tripped. He tripped over an unconscious body. A Death Eater with a wand. Draco snatched the wand without a second thought and battled his way to the front to see where all the action was. _

_Hermione was battling with Mulciber. Dolohov, that traitorous git, was sneaking up on her. Draco aimed a good Expelliarmus at him, a Flipendo, and then a strong Immobulus at him, no mercy. And for good measure, he Stunned Mulciber. Hermione looked in the direction of her savior, and saw Draco. Shooting him a ghost of a grateful smile and a curt nod, she disappeared into the crowd of fighters. Draco tried to get to the front, the center of action, too. Of course, it was too hard, so he was just stuck near the back._

_He heard the half giant, Hagrid, yelling that Harry Potter had disappeared. A few minutes later, a loud Protego was heard, and Draco had no doubt it was Potter's voice._

"_He's alive!"_

_And everything quieted at once._

_Draco had almost zoned out in the banter between Potter's and the Dark Bastard's. That is, until he had heard his name. _

_The Elder Wand had been his? Thank goodness Voldemort hadn't known. Potter better kill him, though. Draco would rather not die after all this. But Potter had disarmed him earlier, so now it was his._

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

"_Expelliarmus!"_

_And the Elder Wand flew out of Voldemort's hand and into the true master's hand, Harry Potter's hand._

_And the Dark Lord, He Who Must Not Be Named, the Dark Bastard, Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, dropped dead. Draco saw his parents rush over and bring him into a air stealing hug._

_Oh Merlin, how he missed them._

Draco bolted up off his bed. He still misses his parents. They were in Azkaban, his dad for six and a half more years, his mom would be back for Holiday Break, because Harry Potter had testified for her, and he had just recently been let out of his three month sentence, Harry Potter also testifying for him at Narcissa's insistence.

He sighed and got out of his bed. He got ready mechanically as he always did these past few weeks he had been back, and served himself breakfast. He told the House Elves specifically never to serve him breakfast. He didn't want the warm breakfast that he would share with his parents everyday when they weren't here with him. Sometimes his parents were busy for lunch and dinner, but never for breakfast. They always sat around the big table every morning and ate as a family, a warm House Elf made breakfast. Draco didn't want to be reminded of that.

Instead, he took his notebook with him, poured himself some pumpkin juice, and took out two pieces of bread that he heated up in the kitchen's oven and some butter.

Instead of reading and discussing the Daily Prophet with his father, he thought and planned in his head of what to put in his slightly worn, dragon skin notebook.

Instead of politely asking his mother about her latest social outing, he wrote and wrote and wrote.

He considered himself an artist.

He had a tortured soul (no pun intended), both physically from all the Crucio's he had received and mentally, from missing his parents and the trauma of the war.

Draco had helped rebuild Hogwarts, but little was left to be done after he had gotten out of Azkaban. After that, he had taken up the hobby of writing. At first, he just wrote down his thoughts of, well, everything. Then one day, on one of his first days at the rebuilding of Hogwarts, he found his inspiration, his muse, and she inspired him (without actually knowing she did) to begin writing a book. He worked hard on it, because he had nothing else to do.

He was writing a rather thought provoking character profile when an owl swooped in with a Hogwarts letter. He smiled to himself, took the letter, stroked the owl on the head, and sent it off with an owl treat. Opening the letter slowly, as to not rip the envelope, Draco soon had the letter and a badge in his hand. A Head Boy Badge.

He scanned through the letter and its contents quickly; supply list, Head Boy Congratulations letter, list of contraband items; nothing new.

"Gully!" he called and a shorter than average House Elf with normal House Elf eyes, and a timid expression appeared within seconds.

"Yes, Master Draco?"

"Pack me some money, please," he asked her politely, to which the House Elf nodded and popped away. Draco finished up his current paragraph and, closing his notebook/journal, stood up to retrieve his robe.

"Here you go, Master Draco," Gully reappeared and gave Draco a heavy sack of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. With a curt nod, Draco grabbed it and Apparated to Diagon Alley.

Feeling like he deserved it for becoming Head Boy, Draco headed to the newest ice cream parlour, Weasley's Wizard Ice Cream Parlour. He chuckled. Seems like that Weasley twin was expanding.

Draco sat down at a small table and scanned the list of flavours on the given menu until something caught his eye.

_Flavours of the Moment_

_In Honour of our War Heroes_

_Dark Chocolate Curl for Hermione Granger_

_Weasel Red Pumpkin for Ronald Weasley_

_May Green Mint for Harry Potter_

_Golden Snitch Vanilla_

_Golden Trio Special includes all four flavours_

The blonde snickered at the ice cream flavour name for Ronald Weasley.

"How my I help you?" a bubbly voice asked. Draco looked up to see a dirty blonde haired girl with hazel eyes. Her name tag read Amaretta.

"I'll have a small scoop of Dark Chocolate Curl and Golden Snitch Vanilla," he said, putting down the menu. The waitress smiled, wrote it down in her pad, and dashed away to fill the order. As he waited, Draco opened up his notebook (he no longer went anywhere without it) and tapped his muggle pen impatiently on the paper as he thought of how to phrase the next event. He found that Muggle pens were much more convenient and clean than quills when he saw Hermione Granger using one last year at Hogwarts, and he used one whenever he wrote.

His pen had barely reached the paper when the waitress, Amaretta, returned with his ice cream. "Here you go," she chirped, placing the bowl before him. With a nod of thanks from Draco, she left him soon after. Draco had to admit, the Weasley twin was doing a good job here. The ice cream was delicious, and Draco liked the chocolate one best. He worked on one of the last few character profiles he had left as he ate, not being able to think of anything else to do.

_Henry Roger Granton_

_40 year old father of Xander Andrew Granton and wife of Cassandra Granton nee Willcotts. Owner of_ _the Granton Jewel Mines. Lord to the King._

_A rather controlling fellow (think of father in one of his fits) and easily angered. Wasn't very nice and very assertive in business deals. An authoritative figure, he was very tall and exuded an aura of power, wealth, and wisdom._ _He had beard and moustache, platinum hair, brown eyes, and pale skin. Henry was very strict and accepted nothing but what he wanted. Xander never seemed to meet Henry's expectations, so he punished the boy,_

_If Xander had the choice, he wouldn't listen to his father. He expects him to be exactly what he isn't and Xander just can't do that. And he is afraid of what will happen when he doesn't obey his father. Sometimes Xander wonders what made his father like this, but he can't think of any other reason other than Henry just not really liking him._

Clink. Draco's metal spoon hit the bottom of his glass bowl. He closed his notebook, packed up his belongings, stood up, and dusted himself off, leaving a few coins to pay for his ice cream. Making sure he had everything, Draco set off to buy everything he needed for the upcoming school year. The upcoming school year as Head Boy.

Granger is no doubt Head Girl, he thought to himself. It's bound to be an interesting year.

After he had bought all of his supplies, Draco headed to Gringotts to exchange some Wizard money for muggle money and headed out to muggle London. He needed a whole new pack of pens because he had a habit of losing them, and new notebooks because he had a feeling he would be writing a lot.

After all, the tortured soul of _this_ artist has a strong muse, and nothing's stopping him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Can You Spell Awkward?**

Heh, I am obsessed with fire right now. :)

* * *

><p>"Come on; hurry up, Ron, Ginny, Harry, Hermione!"<p>

"Do you have your Prefect's badge, Ron?"

"Hermione, are you sad about your last year?"

"George, I will KILL you for charming my badge!"

It was utter chaos as the Weasley family, Harry, and Hermione prepared to Apparate to Kings Cross Station. But in the end, they were all organized and ready to depart. Except that one time Ron had to go back because he forgot his owl, Pigwidgeon.

Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny all hugged their family (and friends-but-basically-family in Harry and Hermione's case) goodbye and lugged their trucks, cages, and etcetera onto the train. They took the first empty compartment they could locate and clambered in. Ginny peered out their window to say bye to her family one more time.

"Bye mum, dad, George!" she hollered loudly. Her parents came over and gave her a quick hug and kiss, and George too.

"Don't forget to get that toilet seat," George said cheekily. "We forgot to give it to you all those years ago." Ginny chuckled and nodded, bidding him one last goodbye before the train started moving. Everyone was acting as if they weren't coming back. But they were, of course.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione," Ginny said as she plopped back into her seat. "We need to get a toilet seat from Hogwarts," she said so seriously, it was quite creepy. The trio that had an ice cream named after them gave her odd looks. "George's request," the red head shrugged.

"OH," said the trio simultaneously. That last statement made everything make sense.

"You're not actually going to do it, are you?" Hermione asked. "That's against school rules and policies!"

"Aw, _come on, _Hermione. Can't you start being all Head Girl-y once we get to Hogwarts? Loosen up, if only for the train ride!" Ginny complained. Hermione scowled at the comment and returned to the book that no one had noticed she had taken out until now.

Harry checked his golden watch. It was a bit battered up from wearing it during the whole war, but it still worked fine and that was all that mattered to Harry.

"When is your Prefect and Head meeting, Hermione?"

"10:15," the brunette answered automatically without looking up from her book.

Ron grabbed Harry by the arm and looked at the watch. "Blimey, that's in ten minutes!"

Harry wrenched his arm back, put his feet on the seat across from him, and put his hands behind his head. "Well, I'm not a Prefect, so I don't have to go. You guys can just run along," he said with the slightest smirk gracing his features.

"Oh shut up, Harry," Ginny chuckled, good naturedly shoving her boyfriend's feet off of her and Hermione's seat.

"Well, I can trust that I'll see you guys there, alright?" Hermione asked. "I have to meet the Head Boy there right now, and stay a bit after the meeting, too."

"We'll be there, Hermione," Ginny said reassuringly.

"You are excused, high and mighty Head Girl," Ron and Harry quipped simultaneously.

Hermione shook her head, trying to look offended, but her giggles ruined it. Then, she was out the door and headed for the front of the train. When she arrived, the blinds were drawn and the door was closed. She knocked lightly, and when no one answered, Hermione let herself right in.

**-d-m-h-g-**

Draco put his luggage in his compartment and headed right to the place where the Prefect's and Head meeting was to be held. He just took out his pen and notebook when the door opened and Hermione Granger walked in.

Draco rushed to shove his supplies back into his secret robe pockets (he had some custom sewn into the inside of his robe so he could sneak things around) before anyone saw. When Hermione saw that he was fumbling with his robes, she instantly backed out and closed the door with a shrill, "Eeek!"

"Sorry," Draco heard Hermione's muffled voice from the other side of the compartment door. "I didn't know there were people changing in here."

Draco stifled a chuckle at her reason for panicking. "It's fine; I'm not changing," he called out to the girl.

She cautiously inched the door open a crack, slowly and suspiciously, and peeked in. When she saw that there was, in fact, no one changing in the compartment, Hermione opened the door all the way and walked back in as if she did not panic and screech, backing out of the door like a little girl moments before.

"Of course," Draco said. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him in question. "Who else would be Head Girl, eh, Granger?" he quipped a bit quietly, but still with the same mischievous, arrogant, yet natural, lazy, and relaxed smirk.

"Thank you," she said with an air of finality. "Now, I suppose your Slytherin prefect again?"

He shook his head. "Head Boy."

Hermione's eyes widened a bit.

"Surprised, Granger?" he asked, his smirk growing a bit.

Before she could answer, Ron and Ginny walked in followed by a few more Prefects. Hermione smiled at her friends and waited patiently as the rest of the Prefects trickled in.

When everyone was here and seated, Professor Sprout, the new Deputy Headmistress, came in and gave the students all their patrolling assignments for the first month and the train ride. With the information given, she asked the Heads to stick back. Everyone then filed out.

"So, Mister Malfoy, Miss Granger, you two are the best students in your year. I trust that you are aware that the Heads have to lead the first years in their House to the Common Room, must plan all Prefect meetings and events, patrol along with the Prefects, and share a Common Room?"

They nodded.

"Good." The Professor seemed pleased that she had received to complaints or questions. "I hope that you are aware of the House Unity Movements we have established this year." She just received blank looks. "Ah, the Headmistress has planned a Winter and Spring Gala this year in December and April, respectively. You two are to plan that, and the Prefects will help decorate. Miss Granger, you and Mister Malfoy can discuss then, right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "We shall see you at the Feast!"

She left Hermione and Draco alone in the compartment, trusting that they would behave and discuss civilly.

"So..." They said and trailed off simultaneously.

There was a very awkward pause.

Draco was itching to scrawl some fresh new thoughts onto his notebook. He wanted to talk now so he could write later. "We're having two galas this year," he repeated.

"Yea, I think we should try to keep the colours neutral for House Unity or something," Hermione mumbled, still sitting stiffly with her hands folded in her lap.

Another awkward silence formed. And Draco still wanted to write something down.

_Can you spell awkward? _Hermione thought to herself with a mental chuckle. Shortly afterward, she wondered if there was an actual spell for things like that. She'd have to look into that.

"Well, as nice as it is to sit here awkwardly, staring at passing trees," Draco said with a healthy amount of sarcasm, "we can surely discuss any other time, Granger. I'll be going now." That being said, Draco left the room and let his hand slip to his secret pocket, where he fingered the Muggle pen, clicking it repetitively as he walked back to his compartment.

Hermione left not soon after him.

**-d-m-h-g-**

Hermione had to admit: Dumbledore always did do the Welcome Speech best. McGonagall did fine, really, but she didn't have that same all-knowing, calm, and breezy aura about her. After she had led the new Gryffindors to their Common Room, she met McGonagall on the fifth floor corridor next to the painting of Sir Isaac Newton (Yes, he was a wizard, too. After discovering gravity, he soon invented the Wingardium Leviosa spell.) Draco was there, too, hands in his pockets.

"Ah, you're here, Miss Granger," McGonagall said when she noticed Hermione's presence. "I had just explained the Head's dorm's rules and such to Mister Malfoy, who hadn't read about it in Hogwarts: A History. I assume you have?"

Hermione nodded eagerly.

Hermione could have sworn McGonagall looked proud for a moment.

"I'll just leave you two to decide on a password, then. Sir Isaac Newton will be your dorm's guardian. Good day to you both," the Headmistress said curtly before walking off.

"Password?" Hermione asked Draco. He shrugged, as if saying, _I don't care._

Hermione thought for a few seconds. Then she finally decided on a password. "Our password will be _Hocus Pocus," _she told Isaac Newton with a wry smile.

Draco couldn't hold back his quip. "What the hell does that mean?" he asked.

"It's a Muggle phrase. Muggle magicians use those 'incantations' as part of their 'magic spells'," Hermione said with a small smile. She remembered when she used to run around her house as a child, with a twig, yelling that and many other 'spells'.

Draco just shook his head, and walked into the now open portrait hole, muttering something about barmy Muggles.

Hermione followed him and was immediately awed by the Heads Dorm.

It had its own fireplace. Hermione loved curling up by the closest chair to the fire and reading a good book. There was a big armchair by the fire, which was even better. A sofa, a loveseat, a coffee table, and one more armchair filled the center of the room. On each side, there were desks and one bookcase, obviously for each of the Heads to work on. Best of all, it didn't look like some crackpot Christmas scene on steroids. The colours were natural and earthy, and Hermione liked it.

She said a curt good night to her fellow Head and floated up the stairs with her name engraved to the side of it, only to find a private bedroom and a huge (unfortunately shared) bathroom.

Hermione smiled. She had a long day, and couldn't wait to drift off to bed. She quickly brushed her teeth (her parents _are_ dentists, after all) and changed into her night clothes and was in her bed in no time. She couldn't help but reflect on what a great day it was. She hoped the rest of the year would be this good, too.

* * *

><p>I guess I'm leaving in about a week. I won't have a computer on vacation, but I shall definitely have a paper and penpencil/writing utensil! :D Hasta la pasta!

I just wanted to say that... XD


	4. Chapter 4

Focus, Draco!

**EDIT: I changed the story that Draco is writing. It is different now, so I'd read that part if I were you.**

* * *

><p>Hermione's internal clock told her it was time to get up. She begrudgingly turned around, her alarm clock reading 6:30 in the morning. It was Saturday, and she had forgotten to add an extra hour and a half's worth of sleep to her alarm. Sighing heavily, she slowly got up and out of bed. No use going back to sleep anymore. She went into the bathroom and turned the water to a relaxing, steamy temperature. Might as well relax a bit before classes started.<p>

While Hermione was upstairs taking a long, hot bath, Draco Malfoy had been up since 6:00 that morning. The summer had gotten him used to writing for a few hours a day, and if he didn't get at least one of those hours, he had trouble sleeping. He wasn't mental or anything. He just loved writing.

Draco was done profiling characters and had his plot done. He was confident enough to not plan a chapter by chapter summary and went straight to writing the Prologue.

_In a house full of grandiose and beautiful decoration and design, one would expect to find a small and very wealthy family with one son as heir and one daughter who dreams of marrying a prince. The parents would have grand masquerade balls and social events which the prince would be invited to and organize business deals to make them even wealthier. But underneath the flawless, refined façade, the Granton household was not what it seemed._

_Draco's family was a bit like that, too. Of course, they didn't have a daughter like Draco used to wish they had. But it wasn't an unknown fact that the Malfoys were very wealthy. Self-reflection over, Draco shook his head to clear excess thoughts and tapped his pen as he thought of how to phrase his next paragraph._

_Xander Granton was the eldest of two children– a daughter and a son– and heir to the Granton Estate. He was different, an adventurous soul that went as he pleased and craved adventure and action– not something a Lord's son should be. He was clever and learned all he knew from books. The library was his safe haven from his parents, who expected him to be everything he wasn't and punished him when he didn't do so. He didn't always listen to directions was always roaming around. Xander is a dreamer and always seemed to imagine a story-tale life– one with parents who didn't abuse him, an adventure that will take him to see places, and a true love. _

_But his life had anything but what he wished for._

_So Xander waited and waited for years to see if a silver lining would come to him. After seventeen years, nothing has come and Xander– scarred and tired– is prepared to change his life himself._

Draco was so engrossed in his intense scrawling that he didn't hear the shower turn on at 6:40, nor did he hear it switch off at 6:49. He didn't hear the bathroom door opening and closing at 7:16, and he definitely didn't hear Hermione Granger walking down the stairs at 7:44.

Well, he didn't notice her until he took a small break to replace his empty pen –having scribbled with this once for almost a whole impressive month and a half already– when his Death Eater, living in-a-war-instincts kicked in. Draco heard breathing, so he hastily slammed his notebook shut, stuffed the aforementioned book and his pen into his desk drawer, and turned around to see Hermione looking at him weirdly.

"Granger! Aren't you up early? I was just. . . organizing my things before classes start! Surely you have already started on that, as a straight O student?" he asked a bit awkwardly. Hermione didn't reply and went to sit on the loveseat, taking up the whole two cushions with her legs.

"I've been up since about 6:30," she said as if it were perfectly obvious. "You didn't hear?"

Draco mentally cursed. He must have been concentrating a bit too hard on his writing. It wasn't his fault that he had been deprived of it for a whole day!

"No, I guess I didn't hear. Too busy organizing. Shouldn't you be down breakfasting by now? I bet your friends are going to be down there soon." He checked his watch. Yup, five minutes until 8:00. Breakfast time was at its high point.

Hermione checked her wristwatch. "Oh, I guess it is time for breakfast!" She got up off the couch and dusted the nonexistent spots off her clothes. "I'll be seeing you, Malfoy!" she said as she exited through the portrait hole.

"Same to you, Granger," Draco called distractedly.

There were times when Draco couldn't concentrate. It was usually after he had a panic attack of any sort or was very startled or something of that nature. It didn't happen often, as Draco had fast reflexes and wasn't easily surprised. But if he was surprised, his adrenaline level went up higher than he considered relaxed and he could no longer sit still and concentrate. It was a blessing and a curse.

Draco picked out a new Muggle pen from his box full of them and stuck it into his secret pocket. Clicking it incessantly helped him cope with just about everything.

He couldn't believe he was almost seen by someone, especially Hermione. If anyone saw him writing (especially Hermione) Draco was afraid they'd tease him endlessly for wanting to be a writer. People would expect a Malfoy to be something more... aristocratic, rich, and money-making, like a Ministry official. At least, that was how it was before the war. Draco didn't care to ask people what they thought of the Malfoys now.

_Wow, I really can't concentrate if I'm thinking things as random as this_, Draco thought to himself. Bidding his notebook goodbye, Draco got up out of his chair and surveyed his desk top, making sure no _evidence_ was visible. With that being done, Draco exited thought the portrait hole and headed to the Great Hall.

His stomach was growling and that didn't help his concentration, either.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry Potter, Conspiracy Theorist

Gah, writer's block is the most EVIL thing ever. =.= I feel as though I've written myself into a hole... A bit of revamping with my later chapters has gotten that problem mostly fixed, though. Sorry for the wait...

* * *

><p>Hermione was a bit confused by Draco's behaviour earlier today. He seemed twitchy (almost like a ferret) and nervous. That wasn't the Malfoy she knew. As she sat next to Harry and Ron at the breakfast table, she was trying to come up with a reason why he was acting so odd.<p>

"Hey Hermione," her two best friends chorused.

"Hi guys," she replied with a smile.

"What's got you thinkin'?" Harry asked, recognizing her thinking face.

"It's Malfoy. He was acting odd this morning. Really twitchy– like ferret twitchy."

Ron snickered at the ferret comment. "Maybe he's hiding something," he voiced.

"Yea, it seems like that..." Hermione trailed off as she saw said ferret traipse into the Great Hall, immediately seating himself with his table-mates. Their eyes met for a second – stormy grey meeting earthy brown – and then Draco sharply averted his gaze, beginning to chat with his classmates as if nothing happened.

"We should find out what his secret is!" Harry exclaimed. "Maybe it's a top secret, super confidential Death Eaters only revival rebellion type thing to avenge Voldemort in his dead ashen form!"

"What?" Ron and Hermione said simultaneously.

Harry smiled sheepishly. "It could be a bad thing...?" he said uncertainly, phrasing his previous statement a bit (or a lot) differently.

"He helped us fix Hogwarts, Harry," Hermione reasoned. "Do you really think he would try and start a Death Eater rebellion?"

"Maybe?"

Hermione's expression went from good-natured annoyance at Harry to the same expression a mother would get when a child denied stealing the last cookie after all evidence pointed at him– a cross between tired, annoyed and trying not to scream.

"You guys remembered how I said he saved me during the battle at Hogwarts, right?"

They nodded.

"So let me ask this again, do you _really _think he is trying to start a Death Eater rebellion, Harry?"

Harry pouted immaturely. "I'm sorry for wrongly accusing people, 'Mione," he said in an exaggeratedly childish voice.

Hermione broke into a grin as she slapped him lightly on the arm. "Grow up, Harry," she admonished with a giggle.

Harry's face instantly brightened. "But you thought I was funny, right?"

"Yes, you were hilarious," she agreed, rolling her eyes.

"I know I am."

Hermione nodded absentmindedly as her thoughts drifted off to Harry's latest conspiracy theory. What _was _Draco Malfoy doing?

**-d-m-h-g-**

Draco Malfoy was draining his goblet of pumpkin juice. He had just finished his plate of toast and eggs and was now digging in to his fresh fruit. He slightly regretted not eating much at the Welcoming Feast last night. But breakfast was better than nothing, he concluded.

"Hey Draco, how's the Head Dorm?"

The voice jarred Draco out of his thoughts.

"The Head Dorm?" he echoed, placing his fork down on the plate.

Blaise nodded slowly. "Yes, Draco– the _private_ place where you get to stay _by yourself_ all year without any snoring dorm mates _and _with a private bathroom, you lucky shit," he enunciated pointedly.

"I _do_ have to share it with Granger, you know," Draco added. "I'm sure by the time I get back in tonight, there'll be a fort of books keeping me from even _getting_ to my room."

Blaise snickered. "Yes, you'd hate to touch the books in fear of suffering the wrath of the bookworm!" he said, waggling his fingers in a ghostly manner around his blonde friend. Draco slapped the hands away.

"Stop it, Blaise. You look like an idiot."

"You do not hit me or suffer the wrath of... the Zabini-worm!" Blaise exclaimed dramatically, poking Draco rapidly in the ribs and arm. Trying to swat the Slytherin away was useless, so Draco just bolted out of seat right then and there, abandoning his poor breakfast.

"Merlin, Blaise, feel free to come talk to me _after_ all that sugar leaves your system, alright? Until then, go run around the castle or something." With that, Draco departed the Great Hall and went to his (and Hermione's) dorm. He took out his pen and notebook and fished a bag of chocolates out of his trunk before sitting down on the plush couch, using the side table to write instead of sitting at his desk.

_The boy with muddied, dirty blonde hair pulled back the string of his bow and aimed at the rabbit. He silently released the string and it hit the rabbit right through the heart. He carefully fished the arrow out and wiped the blood off, planning to reuse the arrow. He also slipped the dead rabbit into his rucksack. _

_Xander Granton has been traveling on his own for a week now. Six nights and seven days ago, he ran away from his warm home, abusive parents, and impossibly quiet and "perfect" sister. He ran out of food three days ago and was glad he thought to bring that book on poisonous plants with him. Xander put the now clean arrow back in his quiver and strapped the bow to his back once more. He guessed that he was quite a distance away from his old home now, but he still needed a place to stay._

_Xander kept on walking until he reached a lake. He heard a rustle in the bushes and turned to find a pair of ducks flying up into the air behind him. He loaded an arrow and shot both of the ducks down in one shot. As the ducks hurtled down to the ground, he heard a soft gasp and a rustle come from a tree behind him._

"_Who's there?" he called, aiming an arrow at the source of the sound. There was no reply. "Show yourself or I shoot!" he added. Another bush rustled behind him and he whirled around, shooting an arrow at it without hesitation. Then there was silence._

_All of a sudden, a dagger was pressed against Xander's neck and a person was pressed against his back._

"_I believe the question is, who are _you_?" a voice whispered smugly into his ear. "And why are you killing _my_ prey?"_

_Xander swallowed nervously, the knife against his neck unnerving him greatly. "I had no idea they were yours. You can take them if you wish, though." He had no intention of starting a fight with whoever held a knife to his throat. _

_Said knife wielder released Xander from his hold. Xander whirled around to see a girl slightly shorter than him with fiery red hair and chocolate brown eyes. She looked about 17 years old, just like him. _

"_You're a girl?" he asked impulsively, eyebrows darting up. _

_She smirked as she picked up the dead ducks. "Your powers of perception are quite whelming," she quipped smugly. _

"_Who are you?"_

"_I am Zatanna Murphy. Who are _you_?" _

_She had a slight accent, one that Xander couldn't quite place. Romanian or Russian perhaps, but very light. She pronounced her w's as v's, short i's as long e's, and rolled her r's ever so slightly. She even pronounced Murphy more like Morphy with a long O.  
><em>

"_Xander. Xander... Grant," he replied, not giving his real last name for fear of being discovered. _

"_Okay, Xander Grant, what are you doing all alone in the woods?"_

"_I could ask you the same question."_

"_Why, I'm with the circus of course," she explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We're set up in the clearing just a few minutes west. I know for a fact that you aren't part of the circus, though. Explain."_

Draco flipped to the next page of his notebook, taking a quick glance at the clock. It had been about an hour. He decided to go take a quick shower before Blaise decided to get his (hopefully) not hyper butt over to see the Head's Dorm.

When Draco came down after showering, dressed but hair still damp, he saw a brown haired girl on the couch holding what looked like his notebook. His eyes widened and he darted over.

"Granger, where did you get that!" he demanded.

"I found it on the sofa," she answered innocently. "Is it yours?"

"Yes, it is mine!" he yelled in an unnecessarily loud voice as he snatched it out of her hands, causing Hermione to shrink back a bit.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea," she replied meekly. "I was just curious."

"Well next time _ask_, if you will," he huffed, grabbing his chocolates and pen and storming up into his room.

**-d-m-h-g-**

Draco had the House Elves bring him dinner in his dorm that night. He felt a bit guilty after blowing up at Granger like that. But he wasn't one for apologies (and wasn't very good at them) and hoped it would blow over by tomorrow. He wasn't in the mood to write (shocker!) so he just picked at his chicken and salad half heartedly. It all tasted bitter to him.

Draco was startled out of his mini depression by a knock at his door.

"Malfoy, are you in there? It's me, Hermione."

Draco got up and placed his half done plate on the dresser. Then he went to open the door. Behind it was Hermione, holding a plate with some fruit and two vanilla fairy cakes.

"I'm sorry about blowing up at you," Draco blurted out as Hermione said, "I'm sorry for looking at your notebook."

Hermione laughed softly.

"I'm sorry for looking at your notebook without asking," she repeated.

"It's fine. I'm sorry for blowing up at you," he said.

There was a brief silence.

"Come in," Draco said, stepping aside so the Head Girl could step in. She smiled at him and walked in.

"Um... You're a good writer," she said awkwardly, sitting gingerly on his bed. He sat beside her.

"Thanks..."

"Would you like some fruit or a cake? I saw that you didn't come down for supper."

Draco nodded gratefully and took a slice of fruit.

"So," Hermione started, "what is your story about? From what I read, it seemed very interesting."

"Oh. Well it's about this boy who runs away from his abusive parents and meets this girl who offers him a place in the circus she's a part of."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "I've always liked stories about the circus. One of my favourite things to draw are pictures of the acrobats there."

"You can draw?" Draco asked before he could stop it.

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "A bit."

Draco spent almost a full ten minutes trying to convince her to draw, but she was too self conscious. He then made it his personal mission to get her to draw. They spent a while just talking about drawings and the plot of his story. When the Dorm's grandfather clock chimed midnight, Hermione was startled to say the least.

"Wow, we've been chatting for five hours!" she exclaimed before yawning. "I suppose I should be getting to sleep now. Tomorrow's the last day of rest before classes start!"

Draco nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow Granger."

"Please, call me Hermione," she said with a smile.

"Well Hermione, I am Draco. Pleased to meet you."

Her smile grew into a grin. "Good night to you, Mal– I mean Draco."

"You too, Gr – Hermione."

Draco closed the door behind her and collapsed onto his bed. Then he noticed that the plate Hermione brought up was still sitting on his nightstand. She had eaten her fairy cake a while ago, but his was still there. Smiling to himself, he took it and slowly ate the cake, savoring its sugary sweetness.

Maybe it was just him, but it seemed to taste a bit _sweeter_ knowing that all was well with him and Hermione again.

Maybe.

* * *

><p>That ending could have been better... XP<p>

And I seriously love Zatanna's accent. :3

AAAAH, REFERENCES REFERENCES WHO GETS THE REFERENCES!?


End file.
